Wednesday 30 March 2016

Sigh

Courtesy: Google Image
Do you remember
The thirty year old young man*
Whom you called ‘Cyclonic Monk’?
To whom you said “We’ve come to you
As we would go to Jesus”
He told you, “If only I could set you free like Him”
Do you remember
The thirty year old young man
Whose love flowed in the words
“My sisters and brothers of America”
And you flowed towards him
For the sake of a touch of his godly hands
Do you remember
The thirty year old young man
Whose words deluged America
It was one 11th September, 1893
At Parliament of Religions in Chicago
It was you who said, “He is Strength and Love personified”
Ah, mark the date
9/11
Love bloomed then
An epoch making nineties
Of the Nineteenth Century
Sigh…………………………………

*Swami Vivekananda


Posted for Susan’s Midweek motif ~ Ninety / The Nineties @ Poets United
&
Shared with Open Link Night # 169 @ dVerse

Saturday 5 March 2016

Extremes

source

You live in the extreme

When you live without darkness

Yet beauty envelops knowledge

And you yearn for escapades

Courting chaos

Like Helen did

You live in the extreme

When you live without light

Until knowledge illumines

So that you can feel a word

Even the abstract ones

By a simple touch

Like Helen did

 


source

Posted for Kerry’s hosting Flash 55 Plus! @ Real Toads

This Poem is an Artist, a Rainbow, a Forest

source

This poem is a color happy Artist

This poem is a rainbow born from a seed


This poem is a forest of fairy tale trees


source

This poem is an abstract art

A canvas with crazy hues

Each color vying with the other

To dazzle and hypnotize you

The invisible brush in Her hand

Paints with strokes and splatters

To make you marvel at Her mastery

This poem is a color happy Artist


source

This poem is Eucalyptus deglupta

Birthed from cracking a seed

It races towards the sky in no time

It yearns to touch its love hidden there

While its bark peels like paint

It morphs into a solid rainbow itself

With strong roots well grounded

This poem is a rainbow born from a seed


source

This poem is a spectacular forest

An almost impossible treescape

Of living and scintillating rainbows

One might mistake it for Eden

Though there’s no fruit for Adam or Eve

But the dreams of others grow unhindered

And reality stands on the threshold of dream

This poem is a forest of fairy tale trees


source

This poem is a tale of Nature as an abstract artist

This poem is a ground born rainbow dreaming high

This poem is a dream of a forest of fairy tale trees


[This is my attempt at Hannah Gosselin’sBoomerang Metaphors]

                                                           

Posted for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights – When besotted with Green [8]

&

Shared with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

Wednesday 2 March 2016

My Flower

source

A flower was offered to me,

It was the spirit of beauty

With its petals of innocence

It whispered in fragrance

To forget it never

As it won’t last forever

When the scented days were spent

I realized what My flower meant

 

 


Posted for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ A Flower Was Offered To Me